Harry Potter and the Sphere of Demsildinh
by WillofTheBeast
Summary: For Harry's 16th birthday he gets a mysterious spherical object as a gift from Dumbledore, an object of great power. With the upcoming 6th year at Hogwarts and an imminent confrontation with Voldemort, Harry must uncover the secrets of the sphere...
1. The Diary of Sirius Black

****

The Diary of Sirius Black

Harry Potter had awoken in the middle of the night, his scar searing with pain, for what seemed like the tenth time in the past few weeks. He was just having a dreamless sleep, which gave him peace, but the pain had once again opened the gates and it all came flooding back to him at once – Voldemort being back, the dreadful Prophecy, and Sirius ... _Sirius was gone!_

He could still picture Sirius falling through the black veil in the Death Chamber, ever so slowly, falling out of sight. And he could not bring himself to really face the fact that Sirius was dead. He tried to force it out of his mind, constantly telling himself that it wasn't true; always clinging on to some false hope that Sirius was going to reappear one of these days. But Sirius was gone...  
  
As the headache subsided, Harry tried to go back to sleep but to no avail. Thoughts kept running through his head. He just lay there in bed for what seemed like hours, contemplating.  
  
Ever since he arrived at King's Cross station at the end of the school year, he never found himself to be in a good mood. There wasn't much to be in a good mood about, really. Living with the Durselys was no picnic, although they seemed to be staying out of his way more, and actually trying to be nice to him on occasion. (This was all due to a quite effective threat from several members of the Order directed at Uncle Vernon). But most of all, Harry was constantly plagued by terrible dreams which always came in hand with head-splitting pain emanating from the lightning scar on his forehead. Although Harry had nightmares for a while now, they had only gotten worse since the incident at the Ministry of Magic a month earlier.  
  
_How can I be in a good mood?_ Though Harry. _I cannot live a normal life ... not anymore._ His life would only get worse from here on. Yes. Of this Harry was convinced.  
  
He got up off his bed and walked to the window. His room (or the room which the Durselys let him use, anyway) stood in dead silence, except for an occasional hoot from Hedwig, who slept soundly upon a perch in her cage.  
  
It was dark outside, but there were no clouds, and the sky was full of stars. Harry had never seen a clearer sky at Little Whinging, and if he wasn't feeling as down lately he might have thought that it looked quite beautiful.  
  
Gazing up at the stars, he noticed something strange, something that didn't seem quite right. A bright red star was wedged in the sky that stood out among the others, and it seemed as though it was flickering at him. He remembered this star from his Divination class with Firenze. It was an omen, a sign of a terrible battle soon to take place – a battle in which Harry would have to kill or be killed.  
  
Harry's thoughts were suddenly broken by a loud snore that undoubtedly came from Uncle Vernon somewhere in the bowels of the house. Feeling that he would never be able to fall back asleep that night, Harry picked up the picture of his mother and father from the bed stand and looked at it for long while. They were waving at him with constant smiles on their faces. How he wished it all was different.  
  
A tear started to form in his eye, but he forced himself not to cry. Instead, he walked over to the wall near the window and slumped down against it, clutching the framed picture of his parents tight over his heart. He fell sleep.

# # #

Harry woke up in the late hours of the morning, not feeling rested at all. But what can one expect from sleeping on the floor, slumped against a wall? Hedwig was not in her cage, but he didn't give it much thought as she often flew about these days, delivering him letters from members of the Order and his friends. Everyone had made a big deal about writing to Harry this summer, as though they were worried he'd get anxious and wander away from his aunt and uncle's house, as had happened before.  
  
Besides the usual letters from Ron and Hermione, Harry received post from Lupin and Mrs. Weasely, both telling him that he must hang in there and that everyone was there for him. Even Professor McGonagall had written him a somewhat personal letter, reminding him that she had not forgotten what she had said about helping him become an Auror. Attached was a book called _A Comprehensive Guide to Aurorship_, on the cover was a picture of a wand crossed with a sword, forming large X.  
  
Although Harry did not want all of the attention, he read the letters sent to him nonetheless. Somehow, hearing from everyone made him feel better. Ron, for one, kept on writing almost twice a week. It seemed that he was having a good summer practicing Quidditch with Ginny, who he said was getting quite good at being a chaser.  
  
While Hermione did not write quite as often as Ron – only about once a week – her letters were usually longer and more informative. She kept him up to date with news summaries from the Prophet and generally tried to keep him in touch with what was going on. She also suggested that as soon as the next school year started, they should reform the D.A., but under the supervision of Dumbledore, and anyone interested could sign up. Harry didn't know how he felt about that, although he took pride in how Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron and Hermione handled themselves against the Death Eaters in June.  
  
The next few days passed very slowly. For most of the time, he would read his schoolbooks, locked alone in his room. However, the weather outside was quite nice, and in the evenings Harry would wander out away from Privet Drive and out about Little Whinging. He did this despite everyone, and especially Mrs. Weasely, telling him to remain as close to number four Privet Drive as possible. Harry of course now knew why they all wanted him to stay near his aunt and uncle's house, but he simply could not oblige as he felt he would go mad if he didn't get away from there every now and then.  
  
When Harry came into the kitchen for dinner after one of his evening strolls, Uncle Vernon got up and shuffled over to the living room, muttering something undoubtedly offensive under his breath. Uncle Vernon did this a lot lately as to avoid confrontation with Harry. He gave up yelling at Harry out of fear of a certain glass-eyes wizard, but his red-hot temper still flashed at times and manifested itself in the ever-so-familiar puce coloration and swelling of his face.  
  
"Sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold," said aunt Petunia in a slightly annoyed, yet resigned tone of voice as she slipped him a plate of what did not look like remains from the previous night for a change. This took Harry quite by surprise.  
  
"Er ... thanks," replied Harry. Though he wasn't all too hungry, he decided that he should eat anyway, since he did not feel like shunning his aunt's newfound generosity.  
  
Aunt Petunia left the kitchen for a moment and then returned with a scroll of parchment, still sealed.  
  
"This came while you were gone."  
  
She dropped it on the table by Harry and left the kitchen to join Uncle Vernon. Harry heard more angry muttering coming from the living room.  
  
Harry shoved his dinner aside and unsealed the scroll, which he saw was addressed to him:  
  
_To Mr. Harry Potter,  
  
In light of recent events and the renewed danger owing to the fact that He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, we are sending out basic defense tip pamphlets (you may find one attached). Please practice these spells as they may prove to save your life.  
  
We are also writing to announce that the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has been suspended until further notice.  
  
Sincerely,  
Cornelius Fudge  
Minister of Magic  
MINISTRY OF MAGIC  
_  
Harry read this through a few times, but was puzzled as to why the Ministry had suddenly lifted the Restriction for Underage Sorcery. From his own trial the previous year, he knew that one may use magic in life-threatening situations anyway. Why lift the entire restriction? However, Harry did not dwell on this for too long, but decided to finish his dinner before it got cold.

He decided that he would write a letter to Ron and tell him to ask his dad what it was all about. Although Mr. Weasely spent more time working for the Order than he did for the ministry lately, Harry bet that he would know.  
  
Ron's answer came fairly quickly, along with a bagful of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes, courtesy of Fred and George Weasely. Ron informed Harry that he was equally surprised as to why the Ministry dropped the restriction, but that he didn't get a chance to ask his father since he hadn't seen him in a week ... Order business. He also threw in a few hints that despite the restriction being dropped, Mrs. Weasely still did not let him or Ginny use magic in the house. _Says she'd had enough with Fred and George._ Harry could almost picture Mrs. Weasley yelling at Ron for levitating his dirty socks into the laundry bin. This made him snigger.  
  
There was another bit of interesting information in Ron's letter:  
  
_... Listen Harry, I've been helping Mum clean the attic at the Headquarters, and well, I found something of Sirius'. I've hidden it from Mum though. She wouldn't want you to see it. But I think you should. I think it's Sirius' diary, mate. I'm holding on to it for you. If you want me to send it let me know ...  
_  
Sirius' diary?  
  
Suddenly, Harry's mind went blank and he again saw Sirius falling through the black veil and out of sight. His heart sank. He didn't know whether he wanted to be reminded of Sirius, and perhaps Mrs. Weasely was right ... he needed to forget and let go.

But no! He had to see the diary. Perhaps he could find something in there that would lift the heavy load off his chest. He wrote back for Ron to send it over.  
  
Several days had passed before Harry had finally received a wrapped package from Ron. Meanwhile, he spent the time taking advantage of the recently dropped Restriction for Underage Sorcery, practicing and strengthening his defensive spells and charms.  
  
When he opened the carefully wrapped package, Harry found a black, spellotape-reinforced journal, labeled in large scrawled letters:  
  
**_The diary of Sirius Black_**  
  
Harry opened the journal, but to his surprise, found it completely empty. Having flipped through the entire journal, looking at every page and finding nothing but absolute blankness, Harry started to lose heart. But then he realized something... _Sirius was much too clever to leave his diary unprotected in case someone found it and decided to read it. There must be an invisibility charm on it!_ Harry thought.  
  
Harry checked his reference book of spells and found one that he thought would do the job.  
  
_Ortus_  
  
As he spoke the incantation, Harry expected the contents of the journal would become visible in an instant, but – to his disappointment – nothing happened. He tried again, and again, but the journal remained just as blank as it was a few minutes ago, without a sign that anyone had ever written in it.  
  
He flipped through all of his schoolbooks and the reference book once again, trying desperately to find an incantation that would work. He tried several more, concentrating hard.  
  
_Patesco...  
  
Resero..._  
  
Nothing ... not a word became visible.  
  
After about half an hour of trying and getting himself nothing but frustrated, Harry threw the journal off his desk. It hit the floor and made a loud thump.  
  
"Stupid piece of junk!" muttered Harry to himself. "Sirius probably never even wrote in it. Thanks for nothing Ron..."  
  
Harry sat there brooding for a while and then decided not to make a big deal about it. Instead, he'd send a letter to Hermione and ask her what spells she knew that would reveal the contents of this journal, if there were any at all (which Harry now started to seriously doubt).

# # #

Harry had stowed Sirius' diary into the bottom of his trunk, along with the shattered remains of the two-way mirror. For the time being, he had given up on it. He resumed his usual day-to-day activities, avoiding the Durselys while reading and practicing alone in his room.  
  
As the days passed, the weather just seemed to get better, which completely belied the mood that he was in. _How could the weather be so nice with Voldemort about?_ Thought Harry, as though asking nature why it did not agree with his own feelings.  
  
Almost every evening he would walk away from Privet Drive, past Magnolia Crescent, past the playground, through several large bushes and out to a clearing. There he found he could practice magic without being seen by muggles. Of course he wasn't stupid and he wouldn't cast spells that created a great deal of light, like the Patronus charm for example. Although he doubted anyone would see him due to the thickness and height of the bushes that covered the clearing, he did not want to risk it.  
  
One evening, as he was climbing out of the bushes to head back for dinner, Harry spotted Dudley, his goon of a cousin, and his gang heading his way (they did not see him from a distance). Every year it seemed Dudley's gang did worse and worse in terms of terrorizing kids in little Whinging. Harry despised them. And now that he could use magic without fear of being tried or expelled, he decided to punish them a little.

He took out his wand and took a few steps back into the bushes, waiting for them to approach.  
As they got closer, he could hear them chatting...  
  
"... Oy, Big D, tha' wus a nass one, mayte!" said a tall, dark haired, scruffy looking thug, whom Harry did not recognize. "I bet 'e's in a world o' pain, righ 'bout now."  
  
"I 'spect he is" replied Dudley, in an arrogant voice. "Suits him righ' for not handing over tha' wallet."  
  
"How much did we take him for, anyway?" asked another one of Dudley's thugs. This one Harry recognized as Gordon, who now arms of the size that rivaled those of Dudley himself.  
  
"O, abou' twenty, twenty five pounds, a piece," replied Dudley and let of a great smug laugh. His whole gang joined him in laughter. _HAHAHAHAHA.  
_  
Harry was now filling with rage. He couldn't take it anymore. He waved his wand at Gordon and muttered an incantation for the tripping hex. This worked quite well, as Gordon's laughter was cut short. Tripping over what seemed like an invisible rope, he fell to the pavement, face first. Harry was satisfied as it looked like Gordon might have broken his nose.  
  
The rest of the gang bent down to help their fellow up. Blood was streaming from both of his nostrils.  
  
"You alrigh' mayte?" asked the tall scruffy goon, whom Harry didn't know. "What wus tha' you trip'd over then?" He asked looking around at the path. There didn't seem to be anything to trip over.  
  
"Down oww," replied Gordon in a muffled voice as more blood poured out of his nose into his hands.  
  
"Bet you tripped over you own feet" chided Dudley. "You deserved that one."  
  
A few gang members let out a series of chuckles that sounded more like grunts.  
  
"Git up then, let's move."  
  
Harry sat in the bushes twirling his wand in his hand in satisfaction, thinking of something else to do in order to make them pay a bit more. Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to mind.  
  
He picked up a rock the size of a golf ball and levitated it. _Leviosa. _Then with another wave of his wand, he sent the rock on a trajectory aimed straight for the tall thug's head. It made contact with somewhat of a loud _thonk._  
  
"Oww!" yelled out the thug in pain, "who threw tha'?" He started rubbing the spot where the rock had hit. It was obviously smarting pretty badly. He looked for the first person to blame, as all thugs did. "It wus you, wasn' it?"  
  
"Wasn't me, Carmic'l, really!" replied the another gang member who was walking behind him.  
  
"Well you do it one more time, an' I don't partic'larly care if it wus you or not. You're getting a beati'n, you got tha'?"  
  
"Alrigh' mate, calm down, it wasn't me, alrigh'?"  
  
Harry let them walk a little, then hurled another bigger rock at Carmichael's neck.  
  
"Bloody ... AOWW!" Shrieked Carmichael. "Wha' did I say?" He lashed out at the gang member behind him.  
  
A few slandering remarks where thrown this way and that, and the next moment a fight had started among the gang members. Just as Harry had planned. Feeling grim satisfaction, he stood in the bushes watching them pound each other to pulp. _Gang rivalry ... what can you do.  
_  
After the fight was over, which didn't take that long, Harry followed Dudley home, slowly catching up to him as they approached Privet Drive.  
  
"Hey, Big D!" Harry hailed Dudley in a mocking voice.  
  
"What do YOU want?" asked Dudley in a half annoyed, half angry voice as Harry came up alongside him.  
  
"Oh... what happen to your face?" asked Harry, knowing quite well what happened, "You trip on something and fall face down?" Harry tried to be blatantly suggestive.  
  
A look of realization swept across Dudley's disfigured face.  
  
"It WAS YOU!" he roared advancing on Harry. "You git!"  
  
"Watch your mouth!" snapped back Harry, "You and your dogs deserve every last bit of that!"  
  
"I'm 'onna pound your face in, Potter" threatened Dudley, his fists balled and at the ready.  
  
"I wanna see you try!" replied Harry, taking out his wand and taking a step back.  
  
"Ha! You can't use that," a smirk showed on Dudley's beat up physiognomy, "Last time you tried you almost got expelled. You think I don't know? I was there!"  
  
Dudley raised his fist and was about to hit Harry straight in the face, when a rope shot out of Harry wand and swept around his torso, disbalancing him and causing him to fall to the ground.  
  
"Ha yourself!" A grin spread over Harry's face. "They allowed us to use magic outside of school now. I can do whatever I want."  
  
Harry gave his wand another wave and Dudley was lifted into the air and flipped upside down. Harry learned _that_ little trick from Sirius.  
  
"LET ME DOWN!" Bellowed Dudley. "I'LL TELL DAD! HE'LL KICK YOU OUT OF OUR HOUSE, LIKE HE SHOULD HAVE DONE A LONG TIME AGO!"  
  
"Oww... little Dudlekins gonna run to daddy?" mocked Harry. "And let him kick me out. What do I care!"  
  
"He would if not for those maniacs threatening him at the train station!"  
  
Harry waved his wand and Dudley was flipped the other way and tumbled to the ground. The ropes binding him had disappeared as well. Dudley was right of course. Harry would have been long gone – out of his aunt and uncle's house – if not for several members of the Order giving a little warning to Uncle Vernon. Moody had scared him half to death by showing him the glass eye.  
  
Harry walked off toward the house numbered 4 Privet Drive, letting Dudley pick himself up off the ground. He wondered whether he agreed with Dumbledore about him being safe at Privet Drive. He knew of course that as long as he stayed with his mother blood – his aunt Petunia – he could not be harmed by Voldemort or his Death Eaters. He wondered, however, whether it was worth it at all. _What does it matter if I'm safe now? I'll have to face him eventually..._

# # #

Another week had passed before Hermione's reply finally came back. She apologized for about a paragraph, telling him that she had gone away for a week's trip to Bulgaria with her parents. She mentioned that she saw Viktor Krum and that he's doing quite well. Harry quickly skipped over the rest of her goings-on about Viktor, as he didn't quite care at the moment. What he really wanted to see was what she had to say about Sirius' journal.  
  
As it turned out, Hermione had crammed the bit about the journal at the very end of her letter in a few sentences. It read:  
  
_... I don't know any other spells besides the ones you had already tried. Why don't you try writing in it? But Harry, I really think you shouldn't read it. It will only open up old wounds _(as if Harry's wounds had even healed over yet)_. ..._  
  
A lightbulb has suddenly flickered to life in Harry's head. _Of Course!_ How could he have forgotten so soon? It was only three years ago that he had discovered how Tom Riddle's diary worked...  
  
He sprang off his bed where he was reading Hermione's letter and dashed into his trunk, digging through to the bottom to find Sirius' journal. There it was! He grabbed it and took it over to the desk in a hurry. Taking out a quill and some ink, he opened the journal to the first page and wrote.  
  
_Hi.  
_  
The ink stood on the page for a second and then began to vanish, as if being absorbed by the page itself. It had worked! Harry's heart jumped. A moment later a message started to appear in handwriting that was unmistakably that of Sirius.  
  
**_Hi. Who wants to know?_**  
  
Harry, excited that it had worked, proceeded to write on the page...  
  
_This is Harry. Sirius, is that you?_  
  
**_Harry? You've got my diary. But that must mean...  
What happened to me Harry?_**  
  
Harry proceeded write about everything that happened into Sirius' diary, telling him about Voldemort's trick, about what happened at the Ministry, about Sirius falling through the black veil...  
  
**_I know what you are going to ask. But I must tell you that if I have indeed fallen through the black veil, there is no way that I can come back._  
_But, what if_  
  
****_Harry..._  
Sirius' words interrupted Harry mid-sentence...  
  
****_The black veil is an ancient relic, from before the time of the wizards. It is a portal that leads to another dimension - a dimension of death. Even if I wanted to come back as a ghost, I could not. The choice is not mine. I am sorry Harry._**  
  
There it was, staring Harry right in the face, the final verdict from Sirius himself. He had heard it from Lupin and even Dumbledore, but somehow that wasn't enough. Yet now, he was hearing it from Siruis himself. There was no way out of the place where the black veil had taken him. Sirius was truly... gone. Harry's heart sank lower than it had gone before as the final dregs of hope abandoned him.  
  
**_I know how you must feel. Believe me, I do not take this news of my death lightly either._**  
  
**_But look on the bright side, Harry. At least you can talk to me through this diary. I will be there for you as much as I can._**  
  
Harry's quill remained in his hand, unmoving. Ink dripped off the tip of the quill and hit the journal page. The drops spread into blotchy smears, and were absorbed by the page in a few seconds.  
  
**_Harry, do not blame yourself, whatever you do. If anything, it is my fault. It was my decision to go and get you out of there. And it looks like I succeeded. Nothing else matters more to me than to know that you are well._  
Harry finally made some effort to answer Sirius' words. His hand slowly lowered to the page.  
  
_I am_  
  
Harry lingered for a moment, and then wrote.  
  
_How can I not blame myself, Sirius? I fell for Voldemort's trick and that's why you're gone!_  
  
****_No! You tried to save me. For that I am proud of you, no matter how rash that decision might have been. I gave my life for you Harry, and I gave it gladly. I'd do it again!_**  
  
Harry understood what Sirius was telling him, but was still no quite ready to accept it. Sirius was gone... and to him it might as well have been his fault. He would not be able to see his godfather ever again. At least this diary remained, through which Harry could hold on to a part of Sirius. Trying to change the subject, he wrote:  
  
_Sirius, what is this diary?_  
  
**_I'm glad you ask..._**  
  
**_When I went to look for Kreacher in the attic around Christmas, I stumbled upon this diary, an old thing from my school days. I decided that it might be a good idea to preserve myself in it, so that if anything should happen to me you could still have me to turn to._  
  
_Every day, up until the time I went after you to the Ministry of Magic, I recorded my thoughts and memories into these pages. It is not a difficult bit of magic; it just takes a lot of time. But seeing how I was stuck at home with nothing to do... well you get the idea.  
  
Hah... I guess I was right to spend the time on it after all, wasn't I?_**  
  
It wasn't as good as the real thing, but talking to Sirius made Harry feel a whole lot better. Sirius told (or rather wrote) Harry about his school years in more detail and about his adventures with Harry father, James. Sirius kept on saying, as always, that Harry reminded him a lot of James. All of this made Harry feel better than he felt in the last month. Suddenly, the Durselys' house didn't seem as bad anymore.  
  
Harry spent the next few days almost entirely in his room, conversing with Sirius' diary. He asked many questions, questions which he wanted to but never got the chance to ask Sirius in the flesh. And then he asked Sirius the one other thing that was hanging on his mind, unresolved.  
  
_Sirius, how come there is no way back from behind the black veil?_  
  
**_I was afraid you would ask that sometime. The truth is, just like there are many paths to choose during life, there are many to choose in death. As you may know, some stay back and remain as ghosts after they die, while others go on. When one passes through the black veil, as I had, there is no choice but to go on. It is a one-way ticket, Harry._**  
  
_But where do you go when you go on? I don't understand._  
  
**_That I cannot answer. I simply do not know, to tell you the truth. I do no think anyone knows. Because once you have gone on, there is no way back._**  
  
_So, do you think my mom and dad have gone on?_  
  
**_Ahh... you ask all the right questions, Harry. All the right questions that are difficult to answer. But... I am afraid that your mom and dad were not as fortunate._**  
  
_What do you mean?_  
  
Of all the answers that Sirius could have given him, Harry was not expecting that one.  
  
**_Your parents were good people, and should they have died under different circumstances, they would have gone on to a better place. But your parents were killed by Voldemort.  
  
Do you remember your fourth year? You said that when you dueled Voldemort, it seemed as if the spirits of those that he killed, including your parents, came out to help you. Do you remember that, Harry?_**  
  
Harry remembered, but he did not understand how that had anything to do with what Sirius was now telling him.  
  
_Yes. I remember,_ wrote Harry, his hand trembling.  
  
**_Then let me tell you this... most of Voldemort's power comes from those that he had murdered. Their spirits still remain under his control, providing fuel for his powers.  
  
When you faced Voldemort, he was weakened and had briefly lost control over those spirits. That is why they came out to help you.  
  
Your parents' spirits, along with countless others, are still trapped under his control. I am afraid they can not rest until he is no more._**


	2. A Close Call

A Close Call

Ron finding Sirius' diary was perhaps the best thing that happened to Harry ever since the beginning of the summer. He no longer felt completely lonely and forsaken. His godfather, whom he thought he'd lost forever, was still with him. Of course it wasn't the same, but even conversing with the diary in which Sirius had preserved his thoughts and memories was something.

In the few weeks that passed since he first laid quill to the pages of the diary, Harry had grown more determined and confident. His fear and the recurring nightmares from the previous confrontation with Voldemort had started to wane. However, that did not make the fact that he'd have to face Voldemort again in the near future any less terrifying.

With Sirius' guidance, Harry kept on practicing defensive spells. He had learned a great deal from the words of his godfather. It was much better to learn from Sirius' words than from textbooks anyway, since from Sirius he got repeated encouragement, which textbooks could hardly provide.

Meanwhile, Harry still kept up correspondence with Ron and Hermione, both of whom were delighted to know that Sirius was still with them in one form or another. However, Hermione did not think that talking with Sirius' diary was such a great idea.

…Harry, I simply think that there is no way to know that it is really Sirius in there…

Harry chose to ignore her. He did not feel like arguing.

Besides, he was convinced that it _was _Sirius. Only the real Sirius would have been able to tell him more about his parents, and only the real Sirius would be able to relate the adventures of the Marauders. Hermione did not know what she was talking about.

So, it is in the evenings that Harry would sit down with Sirius' diary and spend hours reading his godfathers words. It was always very interesting. Harry especially liked to learn more about his parents.

One evening, Sirius decided to tell Harry about his parents' wedding. From Sirius' descriptions, it sounded amazing…

****

…They were married in a great hall on a cloudless summer night. The ceiling of the hall was bewitched to show the stars above, much like it is in Hogwarts. Thousands of candles hung in mid air, and the air itself smelled like cherry blossoms. And everyone was there, all of their friends. I was your father's best man, you know. Even Dumbledore showed up. It was beyond belief, Harry…

When Harry finished reading this, he closed his eyes and tried to picture it all in his mind. As he did so, a smile spread across his face.

Suddenly, there was a loud cracking sound, as if a dry twig was snapped in two.

Harry opened his eyes and quickly grabbed his wand up from the table. Jumping off the chair, wand at the ready, he proceeded to scan the room for anyone or anything, but he could see no one.

He made his way slowly over to the window. Raising his wand to eye level, he was about to look out and see if someone had aparated outside the house, but then he heard a thud behind him, a sound of something hitting wood. He spun around, startled.

The sound had come from the wardrobe. Harry swallowed hard and started to inch his way toward it. When he figured he was close enough to see inside it, he waved his wand and spoke the incantation -

Retractum.

The wardrobe doors suddenly burst open and there was a rush or wind from inside. Harry shielded his head and ducked as a good amount of clothing (pants, shirts and socks) soared over his head, through the air and onto the floor behind him.

When the rush of air stopped, Harry looked inside the wardrobe but found that it was completely empty except for the few hangers with jeans and shirts which were not blown out by the spell.

Harry felt a tug from the back. Someone was pulling on his t-shirt. He quickly turned his shoulder and just started to cast a stunning spell, ("_STUPE-"_) when he recognized the short, thin figure standing in the pile of clothes on the floor. It was Dobby the house elf.

"Dobby! What are _you_ doing here!?" exclaimed Harry, letting out a deep breath. "You scared me half to death!"

The house elf adopted a very apologetic expression on his face.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter," he said, brushing himself off. "But Dobby comes on very important business, sir. He carries a message for Harry Potter."

This was not the first time that Dobby unexpectedly showed up in front of Harry with what he said was an important message. However, Dobby's messages were often cryptic and usually spelled trouble. Harry couldn't help but wonder what it was this time.

"Alright, Dobby. Who is this message from?"

"It is from Professor Dumbledore, sir," pronounced Dobby, lifting his nose in the air. "It is important that Harry Potter receives it tonight."

"Dumbledore? You've got a message for me from _Dumbledore_?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter. Dobby is working for the Order of the Phoenix now that Kreacher is gone. Professor Dumbledore asked Dobby to bring a message to Harry Potter. Dobby was glad to be chosen for this task. Dobby is always glad to see Harry Potter."

"Err... thanks…"

But something did not quite make sense to Harry.

"Wait a minute Dobby… Kreacher is _gone_?"

"But I thought Harry Potter knew… Kreacher went to serve Dobby's former masters… terrible people… the Malfoys, sir."

This new bit of information caught Harry a bit by surprise.

"But, why would Kreacher leave Sirius' home? Isn't he bound there?"

"Dobby cannot say why for certain, Harry Potter, but he guesses that after Sirius was gone, Kreacher felt that he no longer had to serve the house of Black."

This news, Harry could tell, was not good. _If Kreacher no longer felt bound to serve in Sirius' old house, then was he still bound to keep secret everything that he'd overheard the members of the Order talking about?_ He made a mental note to talk to Ron and Hermione about this later. Feeling impatient, he urged Dobby to deliver his message…

"Ok Dobby. What was that message from Dumbledore?"

The house elf dug his small hands deep into the pockets of his tunic (undoubtedly a present from Hermione, Harry figured) and after a while of throwing all kinds of weird objects onto the floor, his hand emerged with a scroll of parchment. He handed it over to Harry with a slight bow.

"Thanks Dobby."

"Well, Dobby must be off now, Harry Potter. There are more duties that await him back at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters."

Then, without so much as a warning, Dobby ran up to Harry and hugged his legs, but before Harry could even acknowledge the house elf's affection, there was a loud _crack_ and Dobby was gone.

After throwing his clothes back into the wardrobe, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and unrolled the scroll to read Dumbledore's message.

Harry,

It behooves me to inform you that a certain squib has discovered you practicing magic behind a set of bushes near Magnolia Crescent. While I encourage you to practice your wandwork in the light of the Ministry's recent change of heart, I must advise you against doing so outside of number four Privet Drive.

I do hope you are having a good summer. You will be pleasantly surprised to check underneath your bed after you have finished reading this.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry _was_ entirely surprised by the second half of Dumbeldore's letter. _Check under my bed? What?_

Curious beyond belief, he dove underneath the bed and sure enough, there was a nice-sized package, wrapped in bronze-colored wrapping paper. Wondering how exactly Dumbledore had managed to do that, he pulled the package out into the middle of the floor and began to rip open the packaging, still wondering what it could be, when he suddenly remembered something…

It was his birthday! _Of course_. How could he have forgotten? He had turned sixteen that day! But then again, in between practicing defensive spells, conversing with Sirius and being tormented by nightmares, his mind was quite overwhelmed lately.

As he tore off the last bit of wrapping paper and opened the flaps of the box, he discovered a spherical object about the size of a bludger lying inside. It reminded Harry of a small desktop globe, except that the sphere that sat on the stand was not that of the Earth but something that resembled a crystal ball he'd used in Divination.

When Harry picked it up out of the box, it began to glow in a very relaxing shade of blue as tiny neon lightning bolts started to dance around inside. Harry stared in amazement. He had not seen anything like it before and therefore had no idea what it could be.

There must be some instructions for this, he thought, as he took another good look into the now empty box. It did not make sense why Dumbledore would send him this strange object without any explanation whatsoever. But he figured that if it was from Dumbledore, it was of some importance. He had to find out what it was…

Harry grabbed his quill and some parchment and quickly sent a letter off to Dumbledore via Hedwig, asking him what the spherical glowing device was all about.

As Hedwig flew off into the evening sky, Harry noticed something else approaching his window from a distance. A few moments later, three owls fluttered into his room, carrying packages wrapped in brown paper. Harry jumped back in surprise, but when they settled onto his bed he recognized two of the owls. One was Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, who had grown noticeably. One of the others was a Hogwarts owl, which Harry recognized because Hagrid often used this particular one. Although he did not know the third owl, he figured it must have been a rented owl from Hermione. Harry's birthday presents from his friends had arrived!

Presents from Ron and Hermione, to Harry's relief, were not as mysterious as the one from Dumbledore. Ron's package contained yet another book on how to become an Auror (from Ron), an abundance of treacle tarts (made by Mrs. Weasley), a year's subscription to _Quidditch Monthly_ (from Ginny), and a gift certificate to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes good for a year's supply of Skiving Snackboxes (obviously this one was from Fred and George). A note was attached:

Dear Harry,

Happy sixteenth birthday, mate! You're an amazing friend and I wish you all the best. I hope you like the presents.

Ron

Hermione had apparently decided to go with muggle gifts that year – she sent a birthday card, some nice shirts (he did not know how but she got his size right), and a walkie-talkie. Harry could not understand where she was going with the walkie-talkie, but in an attached note she wrote that she'd explain it all later. Although he could picture no conceivable use for a walkie-talkie, he decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Hagrid had sent Harry an owl grooming guide, which he was sure Hedwig would appreciate. This was by far better than Hagrid's present from the previous year – a book that had almost succeeded in biting Harry's hand off.

Harry slept surprisingly well that night, and he finally had a good dream – a first in a long time. He dreamt that he was flying on his broom, soaring high above the clouds.

Over the next few days Harry received even more presents. He even got gifts from several members of the Order, including Lupin and Tonks. This was, Harry decided, the best birthday ever, despite the fact that he was still stuck with the Durselys.

# # #

The following week was largely uneventful. Harry tried to heed Dumbledore's suggestion and did not go outside to practice magic. Instead, he stayed in his room and read the two books about becoming an Auror. The more he read, the more certain he became that Aurorship was the right career path for him. It sounded both exciting and important. Harry couldn't wait.

Any day now, the results of the OWLs would come in and he would know for sure whether he qualified to be an Auror. He knew that he hadn't done that badly on the OWLs, but kept his fingers crossed anyway. All he needed was five NEWTs to become an Auror, which for Harry, meant that he needed something above 'Acceptable' in any three subjects, an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Transfiguration, and an 'Outstanding' in Potions (from what Professor McGonagall had told him). He wasn't quite sure about Potions. It was perhaps the only OWL that he was nervous about – extremely nervous about.

On the last Friday in July, the results finally came.

Harry was having dinner at the kitchen table, while aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon were in the living room as usual, watching TV. He heard a clicking noise coming from the window and turned to see an owl perched on the windowsill. Cracking the window just high enough, Harry retrieved the rolled up piece of parchment. It was addressed to him – _Harry Potter, Number Four Privet Drive, The Kitchen_. He opened it quickly and found the following message:

Mr. Harry Potter,

We are pleased to present you with the results of your O.W.L. examinations. Based upon your scores, we have included a list of all of the possible career paths available to you.

History of Magic………………………………...Dreadful

Divination………………………………………..Poor

Astronomy……………………………………….Acceptable

Care of Magical Creatures……………………..Acceptable

Potions…………………………………………...Exceeds Expectations

Charms…………………………………………..Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration…………………………………Exceeds Expectations

Defense Against the Dark Arts………………...Outstanding

Sincerely,

The Ministry OWL Committee

Harry couldn't believe it… He had passed 6 OWLs. He even got an 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he was confident we would. And to his great surprise, he somehow managed an E in Potions. Harry could not believe his eyes, and yet he was worried. Knowing Snape, an E would not be enough to be taken into his NEWT Potions class. And Professor McGonagall had said that a NEWT in Potions is vital for becoming an Auror.

Harry skimmed over the attached list of possible career paths. Sure enough, Auror was listed there. _They must not be familiar with Snape's requirements,_ he thought.

He finished his dinner and went upstairs to write letters to Ron and Hermione. He would tell them about his OWL results and ask them what they thought he could do about Potions. His friends had never let him down, but Harry was uncertain how and whether they would be able to help him out of this predicament. If worse came to worst, he would have to face Snape and convince him to be in his NEWT class. He wasn't quite sure how he would do that exactly. Snape was the one Professor at Hogwarts that Harry hated most, and the feeling between them was mutual.

Snape had always held a grudge against Harry ever since he laid eyes on him. This owed to a long-lived rivalry between Harry's father, James Potter, and Snape while they were still students. Not too long ago, Harry had looked into Snape's worst memory in Dumbledore's pensieve, and that memory involved James Potter and Sirius picking on him and embarrassing his in public.

At first, Harry thought that his father was as bad as Snape made him out to be, but after talking to Sirius and Lupin, he discovered that Snape pretty much deserved everything he got.

When Harry finished the letters to Ron and Hermione, he sealed them and was going to send them out. Unfortunately, Hedwig had gone out hunting. He figured that she'd be back in a few hours and he'd send her on her way then.

Meanwhile, he picked up Sirius' diary off of his night table and sat down with it at the desk. He wanted to see what Sirius would say about his OWL grades.

**_…Harry, that is very good to hear. I didn't do nearly as well on my OWLs. Had three Poor marks. You know something, your parents would be proud. I know I am…_**

… And don't worry about Snape. If he refuses to take you into his Potions class, just talk to Dumbledore. It's the headmaster that has the final word whether you can be in that NEWT class or not…

Sirius' words gave Harry some encouragement as always, and they also gave him hope. Not receiving an 'O' on his Potions OWL didn't seem as daunting anymore. He would talk to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore would recognize that Harry had worked hard to achieve that 'E' and that he deserved to be in NEWT Potions. Dumbledore, he was sure, would show leniency where Snape would love to sack Harry's plans of becoming and Auror.

Feeling much better about everything, and still basking in the delight of getting so many great presents from everyone, Harry turned off the light and sank into bed. Before he fell asleep he thought he hear a distant hum coming from somewhere outside, a street lamp probably. It sounded soothing, and he fell asleep in no time. That night again he had no nightmares. He had a dream about his parents celebrating his birthday with him. He felt happy.

# # #

The following morning, Dumbledore's reply came in a very peculiar way, and the mystery of the strange spherical device was at last unveiled.

Harry had just woken up and was throwing on some pants and a shirt when he heard a strange noise coming for the bed. He directed his attention that way, but then noticed that the noise was not coming from the bed at all, but from the strange spherical device that was the present from Dumbledore. And what was more, the sphere of the device was now pulsating in rapid busts of blue light.

Warily, Harry approached the device, wondering what it was doing. But as he was certain that it wouldn't harm him since it was from Dumbledore, he did not fear it.

When he was close enough to touch it, he reached out his hand and moved it over the surface of the sphere, not letting his fingers touch it. It felt cool, and when it throbbed again with blue light he felt a wave of energy pass over his hand. Then he felt a gentle tug and was suddenly drawn to the sphere. He touched it.

Suddenly, the blue light rapidly increased in intensity, so that Harry had to turn away from the device and cover his eyes. He took a few steps back, holding his arm over his face, shielding his view from the extreme brightness. But then the light subsided and was gone.

Harry noticed something in the center of the sphere. Where before there was throbbing blue light was now an image of someone. It was a face of an elderly wizard with half-moon spectacles and a long white beard. _Dumbledore!_

Harry ran up to the spherical device and bent down to see better.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was pleasantly warm and welcoming.

"Err… Hi." Harry still couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Dumbledore's head turned and he looked around the room. "Had a pleasant slumber?" The question seemed a bit leading to Harry.

"Um… yeah, I guess… um… professor Dumbledore… Thank you for the present, but… what is it?" Harry pushed his question through. He was dying to know what was going on and what this object was.

"Oh, yes," replied Dumbledore, a smile forming on his face, "how silly of me. I guess these are the troubles of being old… always forgetting the important details."

Dumbledore's image became a bit larger; his head now filled the entire sphere.

"This, Harry, is the sphere of Demsildinh… an ancient device, crafted long ago, before age of Merlin, by the Wizards of Metenur. It is an artifact of great power, possessing many magical properties. I have passed it on to you as a means of communication, as you can now plainly see."

Harry's interest was now at a peak. He wanted to know more.

"Professor, who _is_ Demsildinh?"

Dumbledore brushed his hand down the length of his white beard. "Who _was_ Demsildinh rather, for I am sad to inform you that he is no longer with us. Passed on when I was still in school, I'm afraid."

It was quite difficult for Harry to imagine Dumbledore back in his school days. Harry had never even seen Dumbledore without the beard.

"Demsildinh," continued Dumbledore, "was a wizard of old; one of the great wizards of Metenur, an ancient race of magi possessing great power. The Metenur could do magic even without a wand. They were the ones that defined the uses of magic and explored its boundaries.

Demsildinh was also an avid dragonslayer. Quite a disagreeable hobby, if I can say so myself. As the story goes, when Demsildinh forged this very device that is now in your possession, he imbued it with the spirit of a blue dragon – a _highly_ magical creature…"

"A _blue _dragon?"Although he was quite familiar with dragons, having to get around one two years ago in the Triwizard tournament, Harry had never seen a blue dragon before.

"Yes, a blue dragon. Blue dragons were the fiercest of all, and instead of flames they breathed icy air that would freeze anything on contact. However, they are no longer in existence, I am sorry to say. And while they were, they were frequently hunted for their magic."

Although he now had a clear picture of the origins of the device now standing on his bed stand, he suspected that it could do more than just be used as a means of communication. _Why hadn't Dumbledore just sent an owl or even Dobby again? Why give him this device?_

"Professor, I still do not understand…" Harry tried to phrase the question in a way that wouldn't seem that he wasn't grateful for Dumbledore's gift "Why do you wish to communicate through this device as a pose to by owl? Is there any other purpose to it?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Harry, you surprise me. But curiosity is not a bad thing if it serves the right purpose.

The sphere of Demsildihn indeed has many other uses. Like I have said, it is a device of great power. Some of its secrets even I do not know. The reason I have chosen to communicate to you through it is that it is one of the only means of communication, which, due to its unique properties, cannot be intercepted."

Harry still couldn't figure out why Dumbledore had given _him_ the device instead of using it for the benefit of the Order.

Frowning in thought, he said, "But, professor… I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but… why did you give _me_ the sphere of Demsildinh? Couldn't it be put to better use serving the Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix, Harry, has many other ways to communicate amongst its members. Besides, it was a birthday present." Dumbledore winked at Harry. "You must trust in my judgement to transfer it into your possession. I believe that you may make good use of it in the near future.

However, you must be warned… the sphere of Demsildinh must not fall into the wrong hands. Keep it safe and always bring it with you wherever you may go…"

There was a flutter of feathers, and then Harry saw that Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, had flown into the picture in the sphere. He perched on Dubledore's shoulder and started nipping at his robes.

Dumbledore turned his attention to Harry and said, "You will have to excuse me now. As you can see, Fawkes is trying to tell me that he is overdue for his snack. If the need should arise, feel free to contact me through the sphere. You merely have to touch it and speak my name…" And with that, Dumbledore was gone.

_Oh bludgers!_ Thought Harry. _I was just about to ask him about Potions class…_

# # #

Harry spent the rest of July doing what he usually did – reading his schoolbooks, sending back and forth letters to Ron and Hermione, and talking to Sirius via diary.

Both Ron and Hermione agreed with Sirius that Harry did pretty well on his OWLs. Although Hermione got all 'Outstanding' marks, she tried not to brag too much about it in her letters. This was good because Harry did not want to see Ron and Hermione have another major row. Ron managed only three OWLs. Even though he got an 'E' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he received 'Dreadful' marks in History of Magic and Potions.

Regarding NEWT Potions, Hermione's answer was for Harry to go talk to Snape, while Ron agreed with Sirius that getting around Snape and going straight to Dumbledore was the best option. Although Hermione's plan had some merit to it, Harry was with Ron and Sirius. He didn't think that he could get Snape to budge. Snape had always tried to make his life miserable at Hogwarts.

Harry had also told his friends about Dumbledore's strange birthday present, and each one of them was in turn surprised. Not even Sirius had heard of the sphere of Demsildinh.

However, the story about the sphere seemed to have captured Hermione's interest, and she replied that she would definitely look into it and would tell him any information that she could find.

Harry kept on wondering, along with Ron, whether Dumbledore was in his right mind to have given Harry a device that supposedly held a lot of power. Harry could not imagine being a safe-keeper. If anything else, giving it to him would only attract attention. He hoped that Dumbledore had made a wise choice.

Meanwhile, he kept the device wrapped in an old t-shirt, stuffed into his trunk. He was glad that the Durselys didn't know about it because it would surely be in the trash already. Uncle Vernon especially did not like anything magical.

As Harry went down to the kitchen for dinner one Wednesday evening in early August, he noticed his cousin Dudley watching him instead of the TV from the living room.

Lately, Dudley was acting in a peculiar manner. He did not hang out with his gang as much, which was surprising in and of itself. It had been his number one pass-time for the summer. Also, Harry noticed Dudley frequently watching him with a distasteful smirk.

'What's gotten into him?' thought Harry as he sat down at the kitchen table.

Aunt Petunia filled his plate and left the kitchen. At the same moment, Harry noticed Dudley leaving the house. _Going out to meet with his gang, no doubt_.

Harry finished his dinner and was about to head back upstairs to 'chat' with Sirius, when Dudley stormed into the kitchen. Harry looked up at him in shock. _What was he doing back?_

"Hey," said Dudley, his voice possessing a strange quality, "there's someone outside. Says he wants to see you."

Harry did not understand …

"What are you going on about? Who wants to see me?"

"I don't know. Must be one of _your_ kind. Says his name is Mundungus Fletcher, and that you would know him."

Yes, of course Harry knew Mundungus. He worked for the Order. But what did he want? Did he have a message? Why did he get Dudley to announce his arrival? These questions and others raced through Harry's mind.

He finally came to the conclusion that Dudley was trying to lure him out so that he and his gang could have a go at him. That would explain why he was giving him those dirty smirks earlier. '_But how did Dudley know about Mundungus?' _he wondered. '_Well… he could have remebered what Mrs. Figg said after the Dementor attack last summer.'_ That at least made some sense.

"Where is he then?" Asked Harry.

"Waiting by Magnolia Crescent," replied Dudley, "that's where he stopped me and told me to get you."

Harry decided to go with it. His wand was in his pocket. He'd make them regret that they'd even thought of touching him.

"Why don't you lead the way."

He followed Dudley into the evening street. It was only a short walk to Magnolia Crescent, but it was getting quite dark already.

As they approached the last house on Privet Drive, Harry suddenly felt his scar start to prickle. He shrugged it off as it normally happened every now and then and continued to follow Dudley.

They turned and walked on. Magnolia Crescent was now coming into view. Harry slipped his hand down to his pocket and gripped the handle of his wand. He was ready for anything Dudley and his goons would throw at him.

When they were finally there, nothing happened that he expected to happen. Dudley's gang did not jump out at him. Instead, Dudley kept on walking.

"Hey!" called Harry, a bit confused. "Where are you going? I thought you said he was waiting around here."

Dudley stopped and turned around. "Oh, he is. But not in plain view. He wouldn't want to be spotted by _normal _people."

'So', thought Harry, '_they want to have a go at me away where no one would see. Good! Even better… I won't have to risk anyone seeing me use magic.'_

Dudley kept walking, Harry following. In a little while they reached the familiar bushes, behind which Harry used to practice magic before Dumbledore's warning.

Dudley stopped and motioned Harry into the bushes. "He's in there."

So, Dudley and his gang know about that spot too? "Alright. You go first."

Dudley turned and walked through the bushes and into the clearing on the other side. Harry took a deep breath, took out his wand and followed.

As he emerged on the other side, he froze in his tracks, terrified by what he saw.

In the middle of the clearing stood two tall, hooded figures dressed all in black. They were wearing masks – the same masks that Harry had seen in the Ministry of Magic in June. _Death Eaters!_

But how could Death Eaters be here? Most of them were now in Azkaban prison. Who were they? There are a lot more of them than Harry thought.

Dudley stood on the side, the expression on his face was that of dark pleasure. Suddenly, a third hooded figure emerged from a set of bushes to the left. He was shorter than the other two and something about him was familiar, but Harry could not tell who he was.

He walked toward Dudley and waved his wand. The smirk on Dudley's face vanished and was replaced by a look of shock and surprise. "Whe… where am I?"

"He has served his purpose," said one of the taller Death Eaters in a raspy voice and swung his wand toward Dudley, who was sent flying through the bushes, hit hard by something invisible.

EXPELLIARMUS!

The disarming charm had come from the other tall Death Eater. Harry's wand was sent flying out of his hand and back through the bushes into the street. Then, before Harry could run or even react…

STUPEFY!

…He was frozen. His body feeling numb and unresponsive, he fell to the ground unable to move a muscle.

"So, this is the famous Harry Potter," said the same Death Eater who had gotten rid of Harry's wand. "Hardly believable that this _boy_ has stood in the way of the Dark Lord for so long, wouldn't you say?" He turned to the other two Death Eaters.

"Quit toying with him, Mulligan!" commanded the shorter of the three.

"Shut up, Pettigrew!" Roared the Death Eater named Mulligan, of whom Harry had not heard until then. "I will do as I please."

Peter Pettigrew! Harry knew that the short figure seemed familiar. Pettigrew had betrayed James and Lilly Potter to Voldemort – a friend who had turned into an enemy. It was also Pettigrew that helped Voldemort regain power.

"The Dark Lord wants the boy alive and unharmed. He has need for him," stammered Pettigrew. It was obvious even from Harry's perspective that the other two didn't really like Pettigrew all too much.

"How would _you_ know what the Dark Lord wants, _you coward!_" the Death Eater who had not spoken yet, suddenly burst out.

Pettigrew took a step back, cowering slightly. Harry noticed that one of his hands was gone – it was the hand that had given Voldemort a new body. "No… er… the Dark Lord told me himself. He needs _him_ to extract certain information about the prophecy."

"And why would the Dark Lord tell _you_ his plans with the boy and not us?" Mulligan took a step towards Pettigrew. "We were only told to bring the boy to him."

Harry felt the stunning spell wearing off. This was his chance to run. The Death Eaters were not paying him any mind, arguing amongst themselves. He had to move! But his muscles were still not responding.

He willed his legs and arms to move with every bit of strength he had left. His arms moved, as if turned on by a switch. He picked himself up off the ground and onto his knees.

I have to run. Now! I can't let them take me to him! RUN!

His legs finally listened and Harry stumbled through the bushes. His body was still somewhat unresponsive.

"Look! Potter is running!" Harry heard Pettigrew yell. Then there were sounds of feet hitting soft ground in rapid succession. They were now chasing after him. He had to move – run as fast as he could.

STUPEFY!

A red jet of light just missed Harry's shoulder. Trying to duck out of the way, he fell to the ground again.

His wand! It was lying a few yards away. If only he could reach it.

Accio. Harry did not know exactly how it had worked, but his wand zoomed into his hand. Without giving it much thought he aimed it at Mulligan, who was about to cast another stunning spell.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Muligan came to a stop and fell to the ground. That didn't matter. There were two other Death Eaters right behind the first.

As quick as he could, Harry summed his strength, pulled himself onto his feet and started to run.

Stupefy!

Stupefy!

Two jets of red light nearly missed him again. They were gaining on him too fast. He still could not run at full speed.

He turned around and cast another impediment spell aimed at Pettigrew. It missed.

Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore's words. _I have to get to my aunt's house!_

IMPEDIMENTA!

Pettigrew had recovered and sent a spell directly at Harry's chest. Harry reacted just in the nick of time. "_PROTEGO!"_ Pettigrew's spell bounced off, doing no harm.

Harry turned and started to run toward Privet Drive. He had to make it!

He felt his legs regaining strength and picked up his pace. He was breathing fast in huge gasps of air. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. He ran like he never ran before.

He turned on to Privet Drive. _Only a little more…_

IMPEDIMENTA!

Harry was hit in the back, right between his shoulder blades. He felt a freezing ache spread quickly though him. He was slowing down. His legs were beginning to feel like pieces of solid lead.

He was so close… only a few houses away. If he could only get his feet to move a little more. Just a bit further…

"Get Him!" yelled a Death Eater somewhere from behind.

The spell was too strong. He felt it pulling him down, making him stop, draining him. He had to think fast. Then he remembered a spell he had practiced at D.A. meetings. This particular spell pushed objects with a lot of force. There was only one chance…

He aimed his wand at the ground and yelled, _RICTUSEMPRA! _The spell hit the pavement right under him and Harry was thrown off his feet into the air by the recoil. He hoped that his aim had been right.

The last thing he remembered was being thrown forward toward number four Privet Drive. Everything became dark as his consciousness waned.

# # #

Harry awoke a few hours later, his head hurting. He was lying in the Durseleys' living room. The window through which he flew was shattered. Cold wind was rushing in.

Lupin and Mad-eye Moody were standing over him. Aunt Pentunia and Uncle Vernon were standing in the hallway nearby with Dudley, who seemed miraculously unhurt. Uncle Vernon was noticeably furious. Aunt Petunia trembled in fear.

Harry tried to lift himself up but felt a sharp pain in his side and fell back down.

"Relax. Remain still," said Lupin in a concerned tone of voice. The healer should be here shortly. You have broken a few ribs."

Moody directed his attention at Harry. "Err... you're lucky to be alive, Potter. You could have killed yourself."

Harry had to tell them what had happened. But when he tried to talk, his voice came out in painful gasps. "Death Eaters… Pettigrew…"

"Shh…" Lupin halted Harry from talking. "We know. Mrs. Figg had seen it. She alerted the Order as soon as she could. I must say, you handled yourself quite well."

The healer arrived in another five minutes. She was a slender woman, probably in her mid-forties. She reminded Harry a lot of Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse.

Harry's external wounds were mended by wand, but for his broken ribs he had to drink a dreadful tasting potion. It almost made him vomit.

Reparo. With one wave of his wand, Lupin fixed the broken living room window. It now looked good as new.

"Harry, after you collect yourself, Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you. You may use the sphere of Demsildinh to speak to him."

Harry did not know what he was going to tell Dumbledore as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. He swung the door closed behind him and sat on the edge of his bed. Touching the sphere with his fingertips he said, "Professor Dumbledore."

Suddenly the sphere lit up and Dumbledore's head popped into view.

"It is good to see you well, Harry. When I head the troubling news, I dispatched Remus and Alastor right away. I am glad that it was not too late."

Harry could not really speak. He simply didn't know how to reply.

"I feared that Voldemort would try to get to you in order to learn the end of the Prophecy which he had never heard. I suspect it is still driving him mad not to know. And when he discovered that he could no longer invade your mind, he resorted to other means… holding sway over your cousin in order to lure you out into the open."

"I think it best that you spend the rest of your summer at twelve Grimmauld Place. I believe that your friends are eager to see you there."

Harry only nodded. He didn't feel all too well. He knew that he had just been that close to being captured and tortured by Voldemort. How many more close calls would he have?

When Dumbledore's image vanished from the sphere, Harry began to pack his trunk. At least he'd get to see Ron and Hermione soon.


End file.
